Does Victoria's Secret Make A Push-Up Life?

There are bad weeks and there are bad weeks. I have had both kinds. In fact, I have had all kinds of bad weeks. Some are weather bad, or work bad, or social bad. In fact, they're all at least two out of three. But the past two weeks have taken bad to levels even Dante couldn't imagine. I'm talking Ann Coulter bad.

You see, in order for me to work at Emily Carr I need to take a First Aid course. No problem there, you might think. You'd be wrong. I also have to pass the First Aid course, and Lindsay Lohan could pass a spelling test before I can pass a First Aid course. Jessica Simpson could remember the lines to a song we've all heard a bajillion times before I could pass a First Aid course. Paris Hilton could remember to wear panties...

You get the point. I may be a tiny bit stressed about passing my course.

And as if the stress of passing the course weren't enough, there's the stress of where will I live at the end of the month if I don't pass, since I'll be minus one week's wages, which believe me is all it would take to make me homeless. There's the stress of losing my job at Emily Carr, and the stress of what kind of hateful site my company will put me at as punishment for failing the test. Not that that will matter since, as I have already said, I will be homeless. Still, it'll matter for the last couple of weeks of my homefulness, which'll be stressful enough as it is without also having to face a nightly barrage of tweaker-zombies.

So of course I have to put all that aside and try to study all weekend, including the 10 hours I have to work tomorrow for free because -- surprise! -- someone at Garda fucked up. I have to be happy and positive despite the fact that this feels like my end of days.

Okay, so I have to be positive. No problem.

A year ago the idea that I had to be positive in the face of overwhelming adversity would have never occurred to me. I wouldn't have been able to put those words all in a row like that.

Now ask me: did I have a good week this past two weeks?

I sure as Hell did! Look at all these blog entries; this represents the most prolonged period of writing in my entire adult life. I retained my first-class citizenship as a Gay Canadian. I got loved up hard by Pandora every single night, had my birthday, read some awesome shit, rocked out, read poetry, wept in front of strangers, took photos, saw beautiful men, and laughed my ass off.

So why am I so focused on the bad stuff? Because I'm a tool. And what do we do with tools? We fix things. What are we going to fix first? Me. And why is that? Because I deserve fixing.

Four more words I wouldn't have been able to string together this time last year.

Here's another example: I was looking in the mirror this morning, as I generally do when I shave, and after about 30 seconds I forgot I was looking at me, because I was looking at a hot guy. Even with a cold at 6am... Damn!

Is life relaxing? Far from it. Is life good? Damn straight.

And whaddaya know, my new push-up life fits me just right. This must be my lucky day.
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